


and we're the flawed (and we're the stars)

by bellamyblakes (bcllamy)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellarke, F/M, Minor Octavia Blake/Lincoln, Minor Raven Reyes/Kyle Wick, and bellamy is stubborn, basically clarke is blind, blind!Clarke, but for now this is a oneshot, i might add more chapters??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 06:50:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3968503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bcllamy/pseuds/bellamyblakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What are you doing?” he managed to get out. It was ridiculously hard to think with Clarke’s fingers on his skin.</p><p>“Feeling what you look like,” Clarke replied.</p><p>“What do I feel like?”</p><p>“Kind of like Bellamy Blake.”</p><p>“I heard he’s a pretty cool guy.”</p><p>She shrugged, pursing her lips. “A bit of an asshole.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	and we're the flawed (and we're the stars)

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fanfic for the 100 :) hopefully, i did okay and i hope everyone enjoys it! I don't have a beta either, so sorry for any mistakes

Bellamy Blake scuffed his boot against the dirt just outside the entrance to the fallen Ark, squinting up at the sun. His rounds had started nearly thirty minutes ago, and yet he kept finding himself pausing in the same spot, which just so happened to be in perfect view of the front gates.

Clarke had left camp almost three hours ago and had yet to return. Her and Raven were just going on a routine hike to collect medicinal herbs Lincoln had shown them, accompanied by Murphy even though Raven protested. Clarke even had a little book Lincoln had given her that contained very detailed drawings of the herbs and plants and their uses. The trip only took about an hour or so.

So why the hell was she gone for _three_ hours?

Octavia had told him not to worry (“Clarke’s a big girl, Bell, and she has a gun,” she had said), but of course he couldn’t just “not worry.”

When was he not concerned about Clarke, honestly?

He couldn’t truthfully answer that. Instead, he turned away from the Ark and continued his path around the hunk of metal. He glanced at the trees as he walked.

 _No grounders over there, no grounders over here,_ he thought silently. _We’re safe so I can…_

He turned his head back toward the front gates just to make sure, and there she was.

In Murphy’s arms, her head lolling against his chest.

Bellamy took off just as the shouts started. He was the first one to reach them.

“What the hell happened?” he snapped forcefully, noticing the cut above Raven’s eyebrow that was pouring blood into her eye, and the deep slice in Murphy’s leg that caused him to wince when he walked.

“Grounders,” Raven answered just as Abby arrived. “They came out of nowhere, and the first one hit Clarke in the back of the head with some club before Murphy shot him. He hit her really hard,” she continued, her dark eyes growing wide. “Really, really hard.”

Bellamy immediately reached out, his hand cradling the back of Clarke’s head. Where he touched was hot and sticky, and when he drew back, his hand was covered in her blood. Abby stiffened next to him, but wasted no time giving orders.

“Bellamy, take her to the med bay.”

He wasn’t really listening to whatever Abby said next because Murphy was very carefully shifting Clarke into Bellamy’s arms. She wasn’t very heavy, so he could get there in less than one minute if he ran. But she was hurt and Abby gave him strict instructions to not jostle her. So he took his time with gentle steps while also trying to get there quickly.

By the time he made it to the med bay, Raven was already sitting on an empty table, Jackson bustling around for thread to stitch her up. Murphy sat on the floor, holding cloth against his thigh. Bellamy very gently set Clarke on the other table and Abby swooped in, practically swatting him away. Her fingers probed at the back of Clarke’s head and came away just like Bellamy’s; covered in blood.

He felt sick.

“Out, Bellamy,” Abby snapped, her voice wavering. He blinked, surprised at her tone and the look she shot him. Like it was his fault.

“Come on, Bell,” Octavia said softly. He didn’t hear her approach, or even see her standing just at his shoulder.

He didn’t want to leave. He was roughly reminded of the time Clarke and Finn had been attacked by a grounder and Finn had carried her, unconscious, into the dropship. His stomach had dropped then, but now it felt like it was being ripped open.

He wanted to do something; he wanted to help. But he knew nothing about healing and he knew he would only get in Abby’s way.

Octavia took Bellamy’s arm and dragged him out of the Ark completely. He didn’t even fight her, just kept his eyes on Clarke as Abby rolled her over onto her side until they both disappeared from his sight entirely. He jerked away from Octavia once they were outside, not letting her drag him past the entrance. He was perfectly fine waiting right there.

“Hey,” his sister said, grabbing Bellamy’s chin and forcing him to look at her. “I’m sure she’s fine. She’s been through worse.”

He didn’t say anything, just nodded, and set his jaw as he waited.

* * *

Eventually, Raven emerged with new stitches and a frown. Her limp was more prominent than before the trip, but Bellamy didn’t ask her about it.

“Abby kicked me out too,” Raven said in reply to his questioning look.

“Is Clarke okay?” he questioned, watching her as she planted herself directly across from him.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “They were still looking at her when I left. That grounder hit her so fucking hard he broke his club.”

“Reassuring,” he replied bitterly.

Raven was silent, running her finger over her stitches. Her lip was busted and there was a dark bruise forming on her jaw. She winced as she stretched her bad leg out.

He wasn’t sure how long they both sat out there, Murphy joining them once his leg was sewn up and he was given a healthy dosage of Monty’s moonshine.

Jackson left the Ark a total of ten minutes after Murphy.

“There’s not much we can do right now,” he said as soon as he saw the three people waiting outside. “She’s unconscious so we can’t tell what exactly is wrong. Abby stitched her up and now we just have to wait and see if she wakes up.”

“ _If?_ ” Bellamy repeated, his whole heart plummeting dangerously.

Jackson pressed his lips together and nodded solemnly. “Like I said, we can’t really tell.”

Letting out an annoyed (and worried) huff, Bellamy pushed past Jackson and made his way back toward the med bay, ignoring Jackson’s protests. Neither Raven nor Murphy followed him.

He shoved the curtain aside and there she was, moved to a cot in the corner, Abby on the floor next to her brushing her blonde hair away from her forehead. Clarke looked peaceful despite being recently clubbed by a grounder.

After her absence of a total of one hundred and eighty-four days (because of course Bellamy counted), they hadn’t had many problems with the grounders. She hadn’t told anyone where she had gone off too, or who (if anyone) she had been with. When she returned, she offered Bellamy a small smile and he couldn’t be angry with her anymore. He tried to tell himself he wasn’t angry in the first place, but of course he was because she left him.

He shook his head and determined right then that she wasn’t going to leave again.

Abby turned then, her eyes directly landing on him. Clarke’s blood was still on his hands and he carefully tucked them in his pockets.

“Is she okay?” he asked stupidly, his voice coming out gruff.

“I don’t know,” Abby said, and Bellamy let himself nod before he left, deciding he need a large helping of moonshine before he returned.

* * *

It was two full days later, when Bellamy was sitting on the ground with an old book in his lap (one he had found in a bunker), when Clarke woke up.

It wasn’t like he could really concentrate on the words anyways. Once second, he was rereading the same page for the third time in a row; the next, Clarke was sitting up, her hand reaching toward her head, already wincing.

“Hey, hey,” Bellamy said quickly as he dropped his book, taking Clarke’s wrist gently in his fingers to stop her touching her stitches. His voice and touch startled her, and her eyes swept around the room, taking in everything.

“Bellamy?” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

“Yeah, it’s me. How are you feeling?” he replied, trying to ignore the way his heart leapt at the sound of his name from her lips.

“It’s so dark in here. Where am I?” she asked, ignoring his question. Her voice was slow, her words slightly slurred. 

Bellamy frowned, turning his head to look at the bright sunlight that was streaming in through the windows. It was just after lunch and the sun was high in the sky, basking the entire camp in a warm glow.

“Clarke,” he started, his voice concerned, “it’s the afternoon…you just missed lunch.”

She processed his words for a moment, her head tilted to the side. Then she jerked away from him, her breath coming out panicked and shaky. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she pressed her fingers against them before she opened her eyes again.

“I can’t see,” she breathed, her chest now heaving from her pants. “I can’t see anything.”

Bellamy swallowed, reaching out to keep Clarke from flailing her arms. He ignored the dull throb in his chest as he tried to keep his words smooth and careful. “Calm down. I’m going to get your mom, okay? Don’t move; stay _right here._ ”

Clarke didn’t answer him, running her hands all over herself instead, as if she were making sure she was real.

Bellamy ran out of the med bay, calling out to Abby. She was just outside in the middle of the conversation with Kane, and when she saw Bellamy, she immediately froze mid-sentence and ran after him.

“She can’t see anything,” he explained as she threw the curtain aside.

Naturally, Clarke hadn’t listened to Bellamy, and she was standing in the middle of the room, her back to the entrance. She was about three inches from the very table she was lying on two days prior, but she didn’t seem to know that. Abby called her name, and Clarke turned, effectively slamming her hip into the metal table with a loud bang. She cried out as she stumbled forward and fell, her hands reaching out with nothing to grab.

And then she threw up.

Bellamy jerked toward her, but Abby beat him to it. She dropped roughly to her knees and cupped her daughter’s face, repeating her name over and over again. Clarke was reiterating what she had said to Bellamy loudly, her voice scared.

“I can’t see. I can’t see. I can’t see.”

* * *

“The blow from the club severely damaged her occipital lobe,” Abby explained much, much later.

It took nearly two hours for Abby to explain to her daughter what happened, and why she couldn’t see. No one was allowed in the med bay during that time.

Clarke was currently in her tent, knocked out, with Miller standing as guard outside.

“She’s blind. She probably will never get her eyesight back and she has a concussion,” Abby continued in a disconnected voice. She breathed deeply and passed her fingers over her forehead. Kane, standing next to her, lifted his hand and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You can’t see her or speak to her, Bellamy, do you understand? Her concussion has made her confused and right now she just needs to rest. I’m going to say it again; _do not_ go to her tent. Miller won’t let you in.”

Bellamy gave her a nod, but of course he wasn’t going to listen to Abby. He didn’t take orders from her, but he had enough decency to pretend he would.

Abby turned away from him and made her way back inside of the Ark, Kane trailing her. Bellamy waited a good five minutes, pretending to watch the stars, before he spun on his heel and quickly took the path to Clarke’s tent.

Miller was sitting in a chair just outside the flap, a gun resting in his lap. When he saw Bellamy, he didn’t even try to stop him, which Bellamy was thankful for. He wasn’t quite in the mood for an argument.

There was no light, so he had to stumble around blindly, not one-hundred percent sure where everything was in her tent. He tripped over her boots that were thrown hazardously on the middle of the floor. He tried to catch himself, but he only succeeded in slamming his knee painfully into the hard ground.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

Bellamy had thought she was asleep.  He grunted as he pulled himself off the floor and rubbed his throbbing kneecap.

“It’s me."

“Oh,” Clarke said, and Bellamy wasn’t sure if he heard the relief in her voice or if he was just reaching.

“How are you?” Bellamy asked, his hands searching for the edge of her bed. She used to have a cot, but Abby dragged out her own bed and switched them right after their little two-hour talk. He took a seat on the edge of her mattress, listening to her blanket shift as she sat up.

“Blind,” Clarke replied easily.

“Yeah, I got that much.”

He startled when her small hand touched his stomach.

“Oh, sorry,” she said, quickly drawing her hand away.  She tried again, this time brushing her fingers against his neck. “Damn it,” she grumbled, “where the hell is your shoulder?”

He caught her hand as she pulled away and placed it carefully on his own shoulder. He wasn’t sure why she wanted to touch his shoulder, but he didn’t complain. She didn’t explain, just kept quiet in the darkness. He cleared his throat nervously.

“How’s your head?”

“Hurts like a bitch.”

“You have a concussion,” Bellamy provided helpfully.

“Yeah, I got that much,” Clarke repeated.

He sighed just before her hand moved up, touching his jaw.

“I’m blind,” she whispered, her voice dangerously small. “I’ll never see anything again.”

“Clarke,” he started, his hand moving to touch hers, but she completely retracted, pulling her entire body away from him. He heard her sniffle and his heart ached knowing she was now crying.

“Go. Please. I…I’m tired.”

Bellamy stayed for a few more seconds, debating on whether to be stubborn and disobey her. But then he thought about if the situation was flipped, and he probably would have punched something if Clarke were still there after he told her to leave.

So he stood up, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood. Out of everyone, why her? After all she had been through, Bellamy truly believed she was happy again-or, at least, that she _could_ be happy again. And she deserved it more than anyone, but her happiness was fucked up before she really got a chance.

He left her tent, his anger bubbling hotly beneath his skin. Stalking through the front gates (no one stopped him), he walked into the forest until he found the perfect tree to slam his fist against until his knuckles bruised and bled.

* * *

 

 He didn’t see her for another two weeks. She wouldn’t let anyone in her tent and she only rarely ever let Abby in. Murphy, Miller, and Jasper switched between watching her tent on Abby’s request to make sure Clarke wouldn’t accidentally hurt herself when no one was near. Bellamy was purposely left off that list.

He lost himself in training kids who wanted to be in the new “guard.” He used the term loosely because he wasn’t sure if they were really called that anymore. He went on daily trips to find new bunkers, new weapons, new ammo. He found more art supplies in one bunker, and thought about grabbing them for Clarke before he remembered.

After a full two weeks, Bellamy decided he’d had enough. He wouldn’t admit it vocally, but he was lonely without Clarke. It was like she was gone again, and Bellamy had told himself she couldn’t do that. And he wasn’t going to let her.

He entered her tent, blowing right past Murphy who only tipped his head at Bellamy. Clarke was sitting in the middle of the floor, her back to the door and wearing a tattered shirt and shorts. Her hair was pulled back carefully into a bun (the work of her mother, no doubt).

She didn’t stir as he took a few steps inside.

“I’m not hungry,” she said, her voice dull and low.

“Good because I don’t have any food.”

Clarke jerked and twisted her neck to somewhat face Bellamy. Her eyebrows were drawn angrily over her eyes and her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Get out.”

“No,” Bellamy argued, stepping further inside. He walked around Clarke and her head followed him, her eyes not locking on anything in particular.

“Get the fuck out,” she spat, her words full of venom.

She couldn’t scare him; not anymore.

He took a seat directly in front of her, ignoring her angry huff. She opened her mouth, but he cut her off.

“No,” he said forcefully. “I’m not leaving until you leave with me. Has staying in here by yourself for two weeks been fun?”

Clarke’s silence was her only answer.

“Didn’t think so.”

“I don’t want one of your motivational speeches, Bellamy.”

“Good because I don’t have that either.”

Bellamy stood up, searching around for her boots he knew she hadn’t even worn since the accident. She still had her socks on, so it was easy for him to slide the first boot over her foot. He had the laces tied before she even noticed what was going on.

“What the hell-Bellamy, are you putting my shoes on?”

The second boot was a little harder because she kicked against him and fought his hold on her calf. She scratched as his hand with her nails, but the boot was already on and tied. He grasped her wrists and pulled her to her feet.

“Stop, stop,” she demanded, digging her heels into the floor as he tried to tug her out of her tent.

“Five minutes,” Bellamy said, squeezing her wrists to get her attention. “Just five minutes outside and you can go to your tent for the rest of your life if you want, okay?”

She didn’t reply, but when he tugged her gently outside, she didn’t protest.

“Don’t look at the sun-“

“I’m not stupid,” Clarke snapped before he could finish his sentence. Murphy gave Bellamy an impressed look over the top of Clarke’s blonde head.

He walked backwards, leading Clarke further and further away from her tent. The more she walked, the tighter she gripped his hands. No one approached them, but almost everyone stopped in the middle of what they were doing to watch as the pair went by. Raven even stopped mid-argument with Wick to stare in amazement, her mouth turning up into a smile.

Clarke stumbled a little, a curse flying out of her mouth as she gripped Bellamy’s shirt to balance herself. His arms caught her even after she steadied herself, and she let him hold her for a total of about two seconds.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Bellamy said quickly, releasing her. He was glad she couldn’t see his how hot his face had gotten.

“It’s been more than five minutes.”

Her hands were still gripping his shirt.

“We’re almost to the gate.”

She immediately released her hold. “I’m not going outside of the camp. You said five minutes, and it’s been longer than that. Take me back to my tent.”

“You don’t like the fresh air?” he asked.

“Because I don’t get fresh air in my tent?”

Bellamy opened his mouth to respond, but he paused as he glanced at Abby over Clarke’s shoulder. She was storming her way toward them, her face angry.

“Incoming,” he warned.

“Who? Incoming who?”

He didn’t get to answer her because Abby was already there, fussing over Clarke, asking her if she was okay. After Clarke swatted her mother’s hands away, Abby turned on Bellamy.

“What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?” she snapped, her eyes flashing.

“Taking Clarke on a walk.”

“I’m not a dog,” Clarke frowned, just as Abby reared back.

“You can’t just take her on a _walk_ , Bellamy. She’s not-“

“I asked him to,” Clarke interrupted. Her hand stretched out, bumping into Bellamy’s hip before she caught a hold of his forearm and stepped closer to him. Her words soothed Abby’s anger.

“Asked him to?” she repeated, her voice suddenly soft and concerned. “Honey, I’ve been asking you to leave your tent for days.”

“I know,” Clarke replied, and she gave no explanation.

It seemed Abby didn’t need one. Her gaze flickered between the two before she seemed to relent, her shoulders and back still stiff.

“Carry on then, I guess,” Abby said. Her eyes narrowed at them before she turned and stalked back toward the Ark, throwing a look at Bellamy over her shoulder 

“Is she gone?” Clarke whispered.

“If she weren’t you’d probably be grounded for asking that.”

Clarke scoffed. “I don’t get grounded. And don’t think this doesn’t make me angry at you for yanking me out of my tent.”

“Oh come on. _Someone_ had to see you in those shorts.”

Clarke swatted at him, her face turning red. “Whatever. Take me back to my tent.”

“Nope, not yet. We’re going outside the gate.”

“What? No-“

Bellamy, with Clarke still attached to his forearm, took a big step forward. She followed him because she had no other choice. He waved at the guards and they opened the gates, letting the two pass through them.

“All right, I know it’s been a while since you’ve been out here, but I’ll give you a quick lesson.”

He took her hand and pressed it against the rough bark of a tree.

“That’s a tree.”

He took a couple steps forward and pressed her hand against another tree.

“That’s a different tree. Are you taking notes?”

“Seriously, Bellamy.”

He repeated this a few more times. “At the rate we’re going, we might be out here a few days. Here’s another tree. This one is kind of tall.”

Bellamy leaned over and touched her hand against a log. “This is a fallen tree.”

He ran her fingertips over grass next. “These are basically little trees.”

"You’re an idiot,” Clarke said, but her voice sounded lighter than he had heard in weeks, and it made him release a small sigh.

He was reaching toward another tree when she pulled her hand away from him completely. He turned, about to give her a lesson on how important trees were, when both of her hands landed on his chest. That seemed to be her intended mark, because she didn’t move for a good couple of seconds. She stepped into him, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“What are-“ he started, but she shushed him, and he complied.

Her hands slid up his chest, skating over his neck, before her fingers curled against his jaw. She paused there, biting her lip, before she moved on, one fingertip sliding up the bridge of his nose, sweeping over his eyebrows. She touched his hair that was curled over his forehead.

“You need a haircut,” she whispered, and he swallowed loudly.

“What are you doing?” he managed to get out. It was ridiculously hard to think with Clarke’s fingers on his skin.

“Feeling what you look like,” Clarke replied.

“What do I feel like?”

“Kind of like Bellamy Blake.”

“I heard he’s a pretty cool guy.”

She shrugged, pursing her lips. “A bit of an asshole.”

He remained silent while her hands slipped down his chest, over his shoulders. She nodded to herself, seemingly assured, before her hands dropped back to her side limply.

“Can we go back now?” she asked quietly.

He took her hand and led her back out of the woods and through the front gates.

“You sure you want to go back to your tent?” Bellamy asked as they stood just outside the flap.

“Yes,” Clarke answered, and he let her go.

* * *

The next morning, Bellamy threw the flap to Clarke’s tent aside and strode in, his gun slung over his shoulder. Clarke was curled up underneath her blanket, only her blonde hair visible to him.

He carefully pulled the blanket away and shook her shoulder. Groaning, Clarke rolled away from him and buried her face in her pillow. She yanked the covers back over her with a huff.

“Come on, princess, it’s breakfast time,” Bellamy said while pulling her covers back down.

“Is this going to be any every day thing? Go away,” she grumbled in reply, pointedly not moving.

Bellamy took her shoulders in his hands and pulled her into a sitting position, her eyes still closed in protest.

“I’m not moving, Bellamy Blake.”

“All right,” he replied, letting her slump back against the mattress.

Her shoes were in the middle of the floor, like always, and he slid them onto her feet, tying them neatly. Her mouth twitched as he slipped his arms beneath her knees and back and easily lifted her from the bed. He set her on the ground smoothly and she stood there, wearing the exact same clothes from the day before.

Bellamy took her hand (it was completely limp like a dead fish) and walked her out of the tent. The early air was damp and clung to their skin. The morning crowd was thin, most people not waking up as early as Bellamy did. He helped Clarke to the logs fashioned around the fire pit as seats. Then he pressed a can and spoon into her hand.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” she asked dully.

“Eat.”

She reluctantly obeyed, but her spoon hit her chin the first time. He tried to help her, to guide her hand toward her mouth, but she jerked away from him and practically chewed his ear off (“ _I don’t need your help!”_ ).

Clarke got the spoon in her mouth the second time, and she finished off her can in minutes, pretending to not look satisfied.

Bellamy had eaten breakfast with Octavia and Lincoln before he retrieved Clarke. Lincoln was leaving to speak to the grounders by the sea (Octavia had wanted to go with him, but he told her he had to go alone the first time, and then he would come back for her). Octavia was still sitting on a log across from the fire, her blue eyes trained on Clarke.

Raven was the one to tell Bellamy that Octavia was angry with Clarke. It was the day after Clarke left, and they were drinking moonshine because neither of them could sleep.

“She’s pissed about the missile in Tondc and about sending you inside Mount Weather. And, of course, she’s pissed that Clarke left.”

It was a surprise coming from Raven since she wasn’t that great of friends with Bellamy’s sister. He figured Octavia would be angry about Tondc, but Bellamy knew Clarke was trying her best to do what was right, and Lexa had been the one to convince Clarke it was her best option. (After the Mount Weather massacre, Bellamy decided he couldn’t be angry with Clarke, but he _could_ be angry with Lexa.)

He had to remind himself a lot that she was still just a kid. Barely eighteen.

They all were.

Murphy, who had hunted down Charlotte and tried to hang Bellamy, was a kid. Raven, who was tortured on two separate occasions and had a bullet removed from her back without any pain killers, was a kid. Monroe, Harper, Jasper, Monty, Charlotte, Fox, Miller, Octavia, Finn. All kids.

Taking a large swallow of his moonshine, Bellamy had simply shrugged. “She’ll realize it was the best Clarke could do at the moment.”

It took Octavia two months to even have a simple conversation with Clarke after her return. Bellamy knew his sister; she could hold a grudge like no one else. They rarely spoke, just polite conversation after council meetings when Bellamy and Clarke would tell Octavia and Lincoln what was going on.

When Octavia’s eyes currently drifted to Bellamy and locked with his, she stood up, circling around the fire pit.

“Hey, Clarke,” she said, glancing at Bellamy.

“Octavia?”

“The one and only. Are you finished with breakfast? Why don’t we head down to the creek for a while? I know what it’s like to have Bellamy trailing your ass all day.”

“Hey,” Bellamy protested indignantly, scowling at his sister. “That’s rude.”

“Sure,” Clarke answered quickly. She held the can and spoon in her hands, frowning, before Bellamy took them from her. He helped her to her feet, and she lifted her hand, searching for Octavia.

“Right here,” Octavia said, taking Clarke’s hand in her own.

Bellamy felt a little uneasy watching Clarke and Octavia heading out of the camp. It wasn’t like he was too worried about them (Octavia had learned to kick some major ass from the grounders).

Okay, he was a little worried. Plus, he wasn’t sure how to feel about Clarke going off somewhere without him, even though he hadn’t really been leading her around for that long (one day). It wasn’t the same as before-she couldn’t just protect herself.

They were already in deep conversation before they even left his hearing range. The two still hadn’t spoken much, mostly just avoiding each other around camp. Anyone could feel the tension between the two girls, so it surprised him a little to see his sister take Clarke’s hand.

He watched them disappear into the woods, giving himself just a couple seconds after they were out of his sight to worry about them a little longer. Then he made his way to the group of kids that were already waiting for him to begin training.

* * *

Clarke returned much later with new clothes and wet hair. Her face was completely smooth except for a few faint scars and she was smiling, much to Bellamy’s relief. Octavia’s face was cleaned as well, free of the war paint she had grown accustomed to wearing almost all of the time.

The two came to a stop in front of Bellamy, who was sweaty from rounds and training.

“Am I being passed off now?” Clarke asked, her head tilting.

“Yes, to your favorite Blake,” Bellamy answered.

“I think you’ve lost that title, Bellamy,” Octavia argued, raising both of her dark eyebrows.

Bellamy scoffed dramatically, mostly for Clarke’s benefit.

“There you are!”

Clarke turned her head to the sound of Raven’s voice, her smile widening.

Seeing his sister and Clarke together, both smiling, made Bellamy wonder what exactly had gone down at the creek. He wasn’t going to say anything. He didn’t need another one of Octavia’s “mind your business, big brother.”

“Raven,” Clarke said, her hands stretching out for her friend.

“I see you’re out of your tent finally. Come with me, there’s something cool Wick wants to show you. I found it of course, but you know engineers; always taking credit for things.”

Raven’s complaints about her boyfriend continued as she led Clarke away from Bellamy and Octavia and toward the Ark.

Bellamy shifted his eyes to his sister to see her face had settled into neutral. Her blue eyes flickered over to him and she immediately scowled.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not telling you anything.”

* * *

It took almost two months, but Clarke no longer refused to get up when Bellamy entered her tent in the morning. She let him guide her to the fire pit, where they would eat breakfast together, and then someone else, Octavia, Jasper, Raven, Abby, even sometimes Murphy, would take her somewhere else.

Raven liked taking Clarke to wherever her and Wick were arguing to settle a dispute. She liked to let Clarke be in charge of the tools, to hand them to Raven while she worked, and sometimes, Raven would make little metal things for Clarke to fiddle with while they talked. Clarke had told Bellamy her favorite thing Raven made her were the intricate little puzzle boxes which frustrated her to no end, but made her feel extremely accomplished when she finally completed one.

Octavia liked taking Clarke to the creek for bathing, or she would force Clarke to sit on a log and Octavia would braid her hair while telling her the myths Bellamy had told her growing up. Octavia would take Clarke’s hands and run them over different objects, trying to see if she could guess them successfully. Clarke had gotten good at the game, and mostly always won.

(One time, Octavia took both of Clarke’s hands and ran them from Bellamy’s hips to his collarbones while he was in the middle of correcting his sister about Orpheus. He turned into a sputtering, blushing mess while Clarke sarcastically said, “Tree.”)

Jasper liked to make Clarke play aggressive games of rock-paper-scissors, in which Monty was the judge. Bellamy wasn’t sure how, but Clarke almost always won those games too.

Abby liked to take Clarke into the med bay, and when a sick or hurt kid came in, Abby would call out his symptoms and Clarke would tell her what was wrong with him. Clarke told Bellamy she thought it was a waste of time, but he knew she loved it.

And the strangest of all was Murphy. Bellamy hadn’t trusted him at first because he did try to murder a handful of people a couple of times, but the kid was extremely gentle towards Clarke. He liked to take her on walks out in the woods, and once, Bellamy even caught him reading a _book_ to her. It was so out of character, Bellamy honestly didn’t know what to think.

And then there was Bellamy. She ate most of her meals with him, and willingly let him wake her up every morning and walk her back to her tent at night. She liked to go on guard duty with him, to stand there with the sun hot against her back and talk about whatever came to mind.

(He liked her to go on guard duty with him because he had someone to talk to, and he could watch her smile when he cracked a smartass comment.)

One particular morning, Bellamy walked into Clarke’s tent to see her already awake and dressed. She was sitting on the edge of her mattress, tugging on her boots and lacing them herself.

And she was wearing a tank top.

It really wasn’t that big of a deal. Clarke wore shorts all of the time now because of the intense heat so Bellamy had been getting an eyeful of her legs recently. But there was just something about her tank top. He blinked twice and tore is eyes away from her golden shoulders, reprimanding himself.

“Hey, you going somewhere?” he asked. She lifted her head and smiled.

“I was hoping you would take me somewhere,” she said, finishing her double knot and standing up.

“Am I giving out free rides today?” Bellamy teased, watching Clarke grip her pack and slip it onto her shoulders.

“I hope so,” she replied, reaching for his arm.

“Where are we going today?”

“Could you take me to the bunker? The first bunker we found?” she asked.

Bellamy led her outside her tent, thinking, _Finn’s bunker_.

“Sure. Any reason?”

“We’re running low on blankets in the med bay and I told my mom I’d get some. I remember there being a whole closet full unless you already got them.”

“Not that I know of. We haven’t really been to that one in a while,” he explained, moving them to the right to avoid a hole in the ground that would definitely break someone’s ankle. Bellamy made a mental note to fill it in when they got back.

“Okay, good. Raven already brought me breakfast, so I’m ready when you are.”

Bellamy nodded. “I guess that means now.”

* * *

By the time they reached the creek, Bellamy was sweating. The hot, sticky air was causing his shirt to cling to him after he had already shed his jacket. Where was _his_ tank top and shorts?

“I don’t know about you,” Bellamy said as they walked onto the shore of the creek, “but I’m going swimming.”

He yanked off his shirt, relishing in the somewhat cool breeze that blew by. Clarke was slipping off her shoes, smiling.

They waded into the water until Clarke was neck deep (if they went until Bellamy was neck deep, she would be completely submerged). They didn’t stay long, just long enough to cool off in the water, before he pulled them out of creek.

Bellamy totally wasn’t staring at the way Clarke’s tank top clung to her skin, or the way the water dripped down her collarbones and disappeared between her breasts. He wasn’t staring at all.

Okay, he was totally staring and not even trying to hide it. She leaned down to pick up her shoes and Bellamy jerked his eyes away before he could glance down her shirt. Now was not the time to be fantasizing about Clarke.

He cleared his throat after he pulled on his own shirt and gathered his pack.

“Let’s, uh, get moving again.”

* * *

Something wasn’t right when they returned to camp later that night.

Bellamy gripped his gun tighter as they passed through the front gates, his eyes searching the camp for an obvious sign of something wrong. He could feel it in his chest like a sharp knife.

“What is it?” Clarke asked, frowning. Her fingers tightened against his bicep as he paused.

“I don’t know.”

That’s when he saw the first grounder. He was standing next to the entrance of the Ark, his spear held tightly in his hand. He looked threatening, but he wasn’t attacking anyone.

Bellamy spotted Raven first, looking deeply annoyed as she stood with Wick. When she saw Bellamy, she immediately stormed over to him.

“The bitch is back,” she fumed, crossing her arms across her chest, “and she wants an alliance. You two should probably get in there.”

“What?” Clarke’s voice was panicky.

“Lexa,” Bellamy supplied, his voice hard. He had to push down the pure hatred that bubbled in his chest and take a deep breath to calm himself down. “I guess we better get in there.”

* * *

All eyes turned to Bellamy and Clarke as they stepped inside the room. The discussion paused as every head turned toward them. 

Lexa’s eyes locked on Clarke as Bellamy slipped his gun off of his shoulder and set it on the ground. He wanted to snap at her to direct her eyes somewhere else, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t sit well with the commander.

“I will give you time to discuss our terms,” Lexa said as she tore her eyes away from Clarke and focused on Abby. “We’ll set up camp outside your borders and wait for an answer.”

Lexa and the grounders she brought in shuffled out of the room. Bellamy moved away from the door, pulling Clarke closer to him. Lexa kept her chin forward as she passed them but her hand was settled on her knife as if she expected Clarke to attack.

The room remained silent for a good two minutes after they left, just to make sure they were out of earshot.

“What the fuck are they doing here?” Bellamy snapped.

“They want an alliance,” Abby started, her face pinched in a disapproving way. “They just came out of nowhere and approached the gates. They’re lucky the guards didn’t shoot them.”

“An alliance?” Clarke asked. Her lips were pressed together into a thin line and her jaw was set firmly.

“What terms-“

“Who cares?” Clarke stated abruptly, cutting Bellamy off. “Who cares what the terms are? She left you in there to _die_ , Bellamy. She made a deal behind our back to save her own people and to leave ours inside to die. I don’t give a fuck about the terms; there will be no alliance.”

“Well,” Kane said after a moment of deafening silence. He glanced at Abby and she nodded firmly. “I guess that’s settled. We weren’t considering it, we were just waiting for you two to come back.”

“Thank God,” Clarke breathed. “I am really not in the mood for an argument.”

* * *

Clarke and Bellamy were the ones to tell Lexa. The clan set up camp not too far, and they entered her tent not fifteen minutes after she left Camp Jaha. She didn’t seem surprised to see them, but Bellamy was pretty sure she never showed emotion. Clarke told her there wouldn’t be an alliance because they couldn’t trust her and Camp Jaha was currently uninterested in an alliance with them (as they probably always will remain). Indra looked mildly offended, but Lexa remained indifferent.

So that was how they walked away from the grounders one hundred percent unscathed. They stood just inside the gates (with practically the entire camp) as they watched the grounders pack up what they had been able to unpack in fifteen minutes and leave.

Clarke let Bellamy walk her back to her tent after the last torch disappeared into the woods. She had been silent ever since the two left Lexa’s tent, only nodding or shaking her head when someone spoke to her.

Even when Raven approached and said, “I’m sure I could make some rockets that spell out ‘fuck you’ in the sky if you want,” Clarke only gave her a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Bellamy asked when they reached her tent.

“She kissed me,” Clarke said with a scowl on her lips. “She told me she had feelings for me and kissed me. I told her I wasn’t ready to be in a relationship with anyone yet and then she stabbed me in the back.”

Bellamy hid his surprise in a cough. He had no idea Lexa felt that way about Clarke, that she kissed her. What could he expect, honestly? It seemed everyone was falling in love with Clarke.

(Including himself.)

(But he was lost a long time ago.)

“Oh?” he said because he didn’t know what else to say. “Would you have started a relationship with her?”

He mentally kicked himself because what kind of question was that?

Clarke shrugged. “Given time, maybe. I think we may have been too different. She told me love was weakness and that was why I sent you inside Mount Weather because I thought if I threw you in, I could make myself a stronger leader by pushing emotions aside. It didn’t make me a better leader; it only made me sick with guilt because I was terrified that I would lose you and it would be my fault. She taught me some things, but there were things she lacked. You can’t just block out all emotions except for anger and run on that,” she finished with a huff.

“I blamed her for you leaving,” Bellamy blurted. Clarke tilted her head and frowned. “Because she made you irradiate level five.”

“No,” Clarke said, shaking her head. “No, that was me. All me.”

“ _No_ , it wasn’t, Clarke. She left you no other choice. She gave you hope, she brought her entire army out there to back out the last second. Lexa might as well have been in the control room and forced your hand.”

“Stop it,” Clarke demanded suddenly. A crease had formed between her eyebrows, signaling her distress, but Bellamy needed her to know it wasn’t her fault. They had no other option. “Just stop, Bellamy.”

He took a step forward and cupped her jaw, forcing her to tilt her head up toward him. “I thought we got this all figured out when you left.”

“I left because I needed time to think about what I had done, not to convince myself it was right. It was _wrong_ , Bellamy. I murdered innocent people.”

“Yes, it was wrong, but it was our best option. I was there too; I murdered people too. I think about the culling every day, did you know that? I think about their blank faces, about the people they left behind, because it was my fault. I wanted to _die_ because I thought I deserved it.”

“You didn’t know,” she whispered, her face suddenly, terribly sad. “You were scared, you didn’t know.”

“You were scared, too. You can’t blame yourself, Clarke, you’re just a kid.”

“I haven’t been a kid in a long time. I have to take responsibility for what I did.”

“Your mother would be dead. My sister, Monty, Miller, Raven, Wick and so many more would all be dead. We did what was best for our people."

Clarke pressed her lips together, her eyes drifting shut. She exhaled smoothly and rested her cheek against Bellamy’s hand that had moved to cradle her cheek on its own. He brushed his thumb against her soft skin and thought about how nice it would be to just kiss her.

He shook his head at the thought and exhaled sharply.

“You should probably get to bed,” Bellamy said after he cleared his throat. He pulled his hand away, but Clarke reached out quickly and caught his wrist.

“Hey,” she said, frowning slightly, “could you stay with me? Just…just until I fall asleep.”

Bellamy glanced around, but he wasn’t sure what he was looking for.

“Uh, yeah. I can do that.”

Clarke exhaled as if she had been holding her breath and her smile was full of relief. She gave no explanation, but Bellamy didn’t need one. Honestly, if Clarke asked him to follow her to the other end of the earth he probably would.

Who was he kidding? He would.

As he followed Clarke into her tent, he wondered if it was nightmares that kept her up. He had heard from Murphy, who was the one who stood outside her tent at night (but didn’t anymore because Clarke wouldn’t let anyone guard her tent anymore. She thought it was redundant and annoying), that he would sometimes hear Clarke talking in her sleep, and sometimes she even woke herself up with screams.

Bellamy could relate. He rarely slept anymore, and if he did, it was only for a couple of hours. He would mostly just lie on his cot until it was socially acceptable to be out of his tent, and then he would get dressed and go wake Clarke. When he closed his eyes, he saw Charlotte, Fox, the citizens of Mount Weather, and the victims of the culling. His dreams were filled with their blank faces, dead because of him.

So, he could see why she didn’t want to sleep alone. Hell, he hated it.

Clarke’s hands brushed against her mattress and she sat down to tug off her boots. She pulled her hair into a bun and reached for her covers to pull them back. Bellamy was still standing in the entrance. That seemed to annoy Clarke.

She stepped over to him to catch the sleeve of his jacket and tug him toward her bed. She told him to take off his boots before she climbed into her bed and slid underneath the covers. Bellamy did as he was commanded and turned off the lamp that was next to her mattress.

He crawled in next to her, trying not to accidentally touch her. Her back was facing him, and he rolled away so his back was to her.

 _Very smooth, Blake,_ he thought to himself. He blocked out thoughts about Clarke being so close to him, and his eyes were surprisingly heavy. Was he supposed to sleep in her bed, or just wait until she fell asleep and then leave? There weren’t any books in the bunker on How to Sleep in the Bed of the Girl You May/May Not Love/Like.

Bellamy ended up falling asleep anyways.

He was surprised when he woke up, squinting around the tent. It was light outside, but the sun wasn’t up which meant he was usually awake and on his way to Clarke’s tent at the current time. He moved to roll over to face her before he noticed he was already there and Clarke no longer had her back to him anymore.

In fact, she was pressed right up against him, her cheek pressed flat against his chest, her bare knee wedged between his. Somehow, they had both ended up in the middle of the bed, one of Clarke’s arms slung around his hips as she breathed deeply.

He gave himself three seconds to relish in the feel of her against him before he shook her shoulder. He wanted to wake her up and get out of bed before anything extremely embarrassing happened (which, with the two of them, it was bound to happen).

While it was a little difficult to wake Clarke up in the mornings (the girl loved her sleep), it was practically impossible to get her up when Bellamy was in the same bed. Each time he would shake her shoulder or say her name, she would only groan in reply and completely ignore him. He tried to slip out from underneath her, but that only resulted in her tightening her arm around him and even hooking her leg over his waist.

He gave up with an irritated sigh and let Clarke snuggle further into him.

“I guess you aren’t going to get up?” he asked, and was only met with a quiet hum.

“You’re too comfortable,” she mumbled. “Just stay here a little longer and I’ll get up, I promise.”

She was back asleep two minutes later.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and closed his eyes, trying to wipe the stupid smile off of his face. He knew Clarke didn’t think about him in that way, but he couldn’t stop the enjoyment he got of her pressed tightly against him. Somehow, he drifted off again, waking up when the sun was a little lower in the sky, and Clarke’s eyes were opened.

Oh, and Bellamy had a friend.

He cleared his throat, his ears burning as he tried to nudge her a little farther away from his lower half.

 _Shit, shit, shit,_ he thought. Of course he would get hard when Clarke was practically on top of him.

“Uh, I think it’s time to get up,” Bellamy said, his voice hoarse.

Clarke hummed, her eyes fluttering shut. She was smiling which made his face feel even hotter.

“Seriously, Clarke.”

She didn’t move.

“God damn it,” he grinded through clenched teeth, anger flaring in his chest. Annoyed (and completely, totally embarrassed), Bellamy pulled himself away from Clarke and slipped off the edge of the bed. He saw her hands reaching for him, her lips pulled into a frown.

“Hey,” she said, her voice soft. Her fingers caught one of his belt loops but he shoved her hand away, ignoring the little pang of guilt in his chest.

“Don’t touch me,” he grumbled (because, God, how fucking embarrassing), and he grabbed his boots, leaving her tent without even putting them on.

(He knew she felt him against her, so why the hell didn’t she move?)

The day hadn’t even properly started and he was already pissed off.

* * *

Bellamy didn’t return to Clarke’s tent the rest of the day. He didn’t know if she ate breakfast, lunch, or dinner; he didn’t know if she even left her tent, but he didn’t allow himself to go near her.

He tossed and turned on his cot all night until he thought it was a proper time to “wake up.” Standing in the middle of his tent, he debated on whether crawling back into bed so he didn’t have to face Clarke, or facing Clarke. He wasn’t going to admit it, but he was a little worried about her. Had anyone gone to her tent to see if she ate dinner? Did anyone take her on a walk before she went to bed because she loved the sound of the woods at night?

Damn it. Bellamy had no choice.

Besides, Clarke wasn’t a virgin, that much Bellamy knew for sure (thank you, Octavia), so it wasn’t like she didn’t know what-

Okay. Bellamy decided to stop thinking about that as he walked the well-worn path to Clarke’s tent.

When he walked into Clarke’s tent, she wasn’t there. Her bed was cold and empty and her boots were gone. So someone else had wakened her up for breakfast. Not a big deal, it happened occasionally. But when Bellamy scanned the crowd seated around the fire pit, he could locate every head of Clarke’s usual company, but there wasn’t a blonde head in sight.

Octavia was the closest to him, talking quietly to Lincoln, intertwining their fingers. Bellamy closed in on his sister.

“Have you seen Clarke? She’s not in her tent.”

Octavia frowned at her brother, glancing at Lincoln. “No. I think I saw Raven go in there earlier, but I never saw Clarke come out.”

He moved on, shoving away the little fear that had imbedded itself in his chest the moment he saw her empty bed.

(Maybe he was being irrational. Clarke wasn’t stupid enough to wander around on her own, and the grounders hardly excelled in stealth. At least, not enough stealth to steal Clarke from her tent.)

Raven was in a heated discussion with Wick, her voice full of venom (which Bellamy knew was a weird kind of foreplay for them, or something like that). He asked her the same thing he asked Octavia and she shook her head.

“No. I went in there earlier to give her a cane Wick made for her. She was already awake and seemed fine to me. I asked her if she wanted breakfast and she said you had already taken her. So I left. I haven’t seen her since.”

So, just like that, the Chancellor’s daughter was missing. How the hell did a blind girl leave her tent without anyone noticing her? And what the hell was she thinking?

Bellamy decided not to stir any panic in the mass. Instead, he nodded and decided to locate her himself. He checked every room in the Ark, every utility closet and under every bed. He checked the tents, currently occupied or not, and came up completely empty handed.

He had a crippling feeling in his chest that told him it was his fault. He snapped at her the other morning and completely avoided her the entire day.

So he had to be the one to find her.

He gripped his gun in his hands and disappeared into the woods, not telling anyone where he was going. He didn’t know how he was going to find her when she had no idea where she was headed. She could walk right off a cliff.

That thought had him walking a little faster.

Since she had no idea where she was going, it made sense that Bellamy caught up to her in less than fifteen minutes. She was walking slowly, carefully, the cane Wick made her occasionally tapping against a tree.

Anger flared in his chest so hot that he had to pause to he could draw in a deep breath. Then he stormed right over to her and caught her arm.

“What-“

“What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?” Bellamy demanded. Clarke didn’t seem startled, but she tried to pull herself away from him.

“Let me go,” she grunted.

He shook her arm a little, but not roughly. “Where the hell did you think you were going, Clarke? Huh? Are you just going to wander around until you find a cliff to fall off of?”

Clarke slammed the heel of her hand sharply into Bellamy’s chest, causing him to release her in surprise. She had never hit him before. She tried to storm away from him, but he caught her again, easily, because she was slow.

“ _Answer_ me.”

“Fuck you, Bellamy. I don’t have to answer you, you’re not my keeper,” Clarke spat, scratching at his hand that was gripping her upper arm.

“Do you even fucking think? Did you use that little head of yours before you decided to leave camp by yourself?”

“I can do whatever the hell I want. You don’t own me; no one does. You can’t _tell me_ what to do. And if I can’t fucking walk around in the woods by myself, how am I going to fight a war? Do you just expect me to sit in my tent while everyone fights?”

Her voice was ragged, scared and it made Bellamy’s heart clench terribly, his anger dissolving almost instantly.

“What are you talking about?”

“We barely have any alliances. If Lexa decides to come back and eliminate us, do you think we could win? And how would I fight? Just shoot whoever I hear coming towards me?”

“ _Jesus_ , Clarke,” Bellamy grumbled, exasperated. He ran his hand down his face and shook his head. “If you’re thinking like that, why don’t you ask someone to help you instead of wandering into the woods? You could have fallen in the creek, or got caught in a grounder trap, or murdered by a grounder. Does that not matter to you?”

“Why does it matter to _you?_ Why do you always follow me around like I’m some sick child who needs a nurse? I don’t need your _fucking help.”_

 “Stop saying shit like that. Of course you need my help, you’re blind. In case you somehow forgot what it means, that means you can’t see anything.” He paused as his mind materialized dozens of different scenarios in which Clarke somehow died before he found her. “You could have died out here. You have no idea where you’re going.”

“Who cares?”

Bellamy blinked in surprise. “I care.”

“Why, Bellamy? Why do you care so much?” she demanded, the volume of her voice rising, echoing around them.

“Because I’m in love with you, okay?” Bellamy blurted, frustrated with how she couldn’t _see_ it already. He tried so hard to keep it a secret but it was like half the fucking camp knew.

Clarke’s hands dropped by her side limply, her lips parting. Bellamy pinched the bridge of his nose, silently telling himself how much of an idiot he was.

Well. That just happened.

“What?” Clarke whispered.

“Nothing. Do whatever the hell you want,” Bellamy grumbled, fumbling with his gun. He turned on his heel, his face absolutely burning.

“Wait!” Clarke squeaked, her hands reaching for him. He paused to let her hand catch the sleeve of his leather jacket. “You’re in love with me?”

Bellamy shrugged. “I don’t-I mean, it’s just…you know.”

She was smiling, which only made Bellamy groan.

“Okay, you know what? Never mind. I never said anything, okay? Just-” His gun slipped off his shoulder and he scrambled for it. “Fuck, just go back to whatever you were doing.”

“But you’re in love with me. You love me.”

Bellamy didn’t say anything, he just kept walking. Out of all the times Bellamy had kept his mouth shut about what he felt, why did he forget this time? He didn’t want Clarke to know he had _feelings_ for her, which was incredibly embarrassing. He knew Clarke wasn’t interested in a relationship or anything, she had made that a point when people would sometimes approach her to flirt or something like that.

(And since Clarke was blind, it allowed Bellamy to glare, from across camp, at the unfortunate soul who approached Clarke. Not that she needed his help; she usually shut them down anyways. Those instances usually left an annoying feeling in his chest that he was too embarrassed to acknowledge.)

(Octavia told him it was jealousy. Bellamy told her to shut up.)

“ _Wait_ a second, Bellamy,” Clarke insisted, tugging at his sleeve.

“What?” he snapped, turning to face her. He was really intent on getting back to camp so he could hide in his tent for the rest of his life, but Clarke was ruining his plans per usual.

(It was just his luck to have two consecutive embarrassing things happen to him involving Clarke. Really, he was just the luckiest.)

“I love you too,” she said, her hands moving up to squeeze his cheeks together. He pulled his head back, out of her grip.

“I know that.”

And he did because she wouldn’t have done a lot of the things she did if she didn’t love him, but Bellamy had come to know that loving someone and being _in love_ with someone were two separate things. And he told her that.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m in love with you.”

Bellamy tilted his head and blinked. “What." 

It wasn’t a question because he heard exactly what she said as if she had been screaming. She sighed.

“I swear,” she muttered before shaking her head. “You’re blinder than I am. I love you and I’m in love with you and I’ve been waiting for you to kiss me since I came back to camp.”

He cleared his throat very carefully. “I-uh. What?”

“Kiss me.”

Bellamy wasn’t the one to disobey orders (at least, orders coming from Clarke).

Her lips were chapped, as were his, but it didn’t stop either of them from just going at it. Bellamy was surprised how carried away they got, his hands tangled in her blonde hair (which he had wanted to do for forever), her hands slipped up the back of his shirt, curled against the small of his back. There was no soft kissing involved, just teeth and gasps and hips pressed together.

Only when he had somehow backed her up against the nearest tree, his hips rocking against hers, did he realized they were: 1) in the middle of the woods and 2) literally about to fuck against a tree after their first kiss.

He broke the kiss, panting against her cheek as he tried to get a hold of himself. Clarke made a noise in the back of her throat, her hands searching for his hair. She tugged at the curls until her mouth found his and they were kissing again.

He thought about the time Raven came into his tent and told him to take off his clothes. How he told her if she was looking for someone to talk her down, he wasn’t the one. He hadn’t been, but this was _Clarke_. She wasn’t kissing him for revenge sex, she was kissing him because she loved him, and he didn’t want to fuck it up by having sex with her in the middle of the woods. He didn’t want her to regret anything she did with him.

Clarke broke the kiss before he could. “God, I can hear you thinking,” she mumbled against his lips, her fingers tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck. “Stop thinking.”

“Clarke, are you-“

“Don’t. Don’t ask me if I want to do this, if I’m sure. You wouldn’t have gotten this far if I wasn’t sure.”

Okay, he had to give her that. Clarke didn’t do anything she didn’t want to.

* * *

When they returned to camp an hour later, Octavia ambushed them.

“Where the _hell_ have you two been?” she demanded, her nose pinched in her disapproving way. “We were five minutes away from sending out a search party.”

Glancing around, Bellamy could see that camp was going on as usual. No one looked relieved at their arrival except for his sister. Raven was just a few feet away, her arms crossed against her chest and looking like Octavia had dragged her all around camp (which she probably had).

“I went to look for Clarke,” Bellamy said, because it wasn’t a lie.

Before Octavia could shoot out more accusations/questions, Bellamy could hear Raven’s laugh. In fact, she was laughing so hard she had to grip her sides to catch her breath. Bellamy only scowled, knowing exactly what she was laughing about.

“What?” Octavia insisted, frowning. Her blue eyes darted between Bellamy and Clarke, down to their intertwined fingers (which wasn’t uncommon because holding Clarke’s hand was easier than holding her elbow) and back to Raven. Then she narrowed in on Clarke’s flushed cheeks, her swollen, red lips and the leaf stuck in her blonde hair that Bellamy had missed. He cursed before Octavia started laughing too.

“Oh, thank God. Seriously. _Thank God._ I was wondering when you two idiots were going to finally realize.”

“Realize what?” Clarke asked. “What are you laughing about?”

Rolling his eyes at his sister, Bellamy reached over and gently pulled the leaf from Clarke’s hair.

“I missed a leaf.”

Clarke’s blue eyes went wide, which made Raven laugh harder.

“You guys couldn’t be secretive if you tried,” Raven gasped. Octavia, grinning, nodded in agreement.

Even with Octavia and Raven’s laughter bubbling in the air, Bellamy could see how happy Clarke looked. Her fingers squeezed his as she released a breathy laugh and he wanted to kiss her again, but not in front of his sister and Reyes.

He wasn’t able to get one in anyways, because Octavia swooped in and kissed them both on the cheek before dragging them toward lunch, telling them just how long the bet between her and Jasper had lasted.

* * *

One year later, they got married because Clarke wanted to wear a dress and Raven made them rings so why the hell not.

 


End file.
